Nightingale
by SchwarzLilien
Summary: -One-shot-. He couldn't understand it. How could she open the windows of her soul to the man that was causing her death?


"_...A nightingale in a golden cage."_ The words echoed through his head, their vibration resounding on every inch of his body.

He stood still under the leafy trees, chocolate eyes staring down to the woman at his feet. Just a few meters away from her, laid his beloved puppet Hiruko, shattered into pieces.

The woman stared back at him with compassionate eyes. He hated the feeling of those orbs piercing into his; it made him desire to rip them out of her head. He _loathed_ the look in those eyes, where he could see the reflection of himself as a child.

"Me? Considerate? That is quite a naive thought." Sasori's voice was emotionless, as it had always been. "Why would I feel pity for someone like you?"

"You could have finished me off already if you wanted to."

"I don't even need to bother killing you. The poison will do it for me in a couple hours."

"I know that."

Both of them remained silent. He did not know how much time he had spent standing there, however, he knew it had been much longer than needed. The red-haired man knew the woman was wrong; he did not feel the least sympathy for her, nor cared if she was suffering or not. Why had he let her live until now?

"_You're a nightingale locked in a golden cage."_

Those words still bothered him. If it was not for them, he wouldn't have been motivated enough to leave the woman bleeding to death on the floor.

They disturbed him, and that was certainly not a feeling he was used to. In fact, he was not accustomed to _feel _anything at all.

"Have you ever wondered... if there's something beyond death?" Sasori kept his eyes fixed on her, yet he did not say a word. "I truly hope there won't be anything waiting for me at all."

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked, with a blank, yet bemused look.

"I thought that if neither of us is going to move, it would be nice to talk."

She was a strange individual. Never in his whole life had he seen someone with such politeness against an enemy. Perhaps it was curiosity, what held him still in that place?

No, he didn't think so...

"I think there is a reason why people cling to life." he finally responded. "Death is a sentence to oblivion, to nothingness."

"Good. I truly hope so."

"That's ridiculous. How can you wish to disappear so pathetically?"

A small smile crossed her lips.

The moonlight bathed Sasori's pale, wooden body, causing it to glisten softly under the nocturnal forest.

"You really are a nightingale in a golden cage."

That feeling again... weakening. The fact of being affected by the words of a dying woman made him feel certain repulsion against himself.

"Why?"

He couldn't tell if what filled her eyes was compassion or admiration, but either way, he did not like the way she looked at him. Her smile was very humble, simple, even as she laid on her deathbed. What a miserable thing to do.

"I don't know, it's just that is saddening to see a soul... helplessly trapped in a beautiful wooden box."

Sasori did not say a word. What an obtuse thought.

He did not expect a simple girl to understand anything, knowing too well that kind of dull attitude. But why, oh why such shallow words struck his head over and over?

Words of mediocrity, of imperfection.

"How benighted your mind is; nothing bounded to the chains of time can ever transcend. What is merely transient wouldn't ever deserve to be considered art, or even beautiful. Such worthless things are completely irrelevant."

Her eyes wandered away in the sky for a moment, lost in thought.

"The beauty of living resides on its ephemerality. Why would I want anything more, when the last beating of a heart is the culmination of the human essence?" She said serenely. There could have even been a hint of joy in her voice. "I think... art can be found in fugacious details that leave their trace inside of us." She looked back at him with those eyes that said too much to understand anything at all.

Why was this woman pouring her heart in his cold hands? Her warmth made the red-haired man feel estranged, and her eyes... those cursed eyes...

How could she open the windows of her soul to the man that was causing her death?

"What a stupid thought..."

"Ah, you think so?" unlike her words, her tone did not show any disappointment at Sasori's reply.

Both of them kept quiet, yet somehow the feeling of still having a conversation filled the air.

The silence was not uncomfortable at all, at least not for Sasori.

It was nice, like a wordless poem that he was sharing with the woods, with the dying girl at his feet.

It felt... timeless.

"Thank you," She said in her peaceful tone. Sasori was not certain of how much time had passed since any of them last spoke. For a moment, he could have sworn that he saw a glimpse in her eyes.

"Thanks for letting me listen to the nightingale sing."

Sasori felt his eyes widen slightly. The glimpse in her eyes was gone.

He felt a strange melancholy; similar to a heartache, as he stared at the lifeless body on the ground.

Her eyes had turned into empty pools, like those of a doll.

"Ah..."

He closed his eyes, looking again for the eyes he had stayed for. Those eyes that were gone, only in his memory to remain.

Maybe, just maybe… Art could be fleeting once in a while.


End file.
